A person sacrifices himself to become a saint in a chaotic world of martial arts.

Chapter 134 Li Sanshan's Bewilderment

The next day, just as dawn was breaking and the morning mist had not yet dissipated, he was getting ready to go on his business trip.

The courtyard gate was suddenly pushed open.

Ning Yuechan appeared at the doorway. In the dim morning light, she was still dressed in her usual smart attire, looking dashing and spirited, though a hint of weariness lingered between her brows, and faint dark circles under her eyes, clearly indicating she hadn't slept all night. Her hair was somewhat disheveled, and her robes were damp with dew, as if she had traveled a long way.

"You're up?" She walked into the yard, a hint of a smile in her eyes. "Just in time."

Su Bai clasped his hands in a gesture of respect, noticing her fatigue, but did not ask any further questions.

"I went back to the Ning family." She got straight to the point, sat down on a stone bench in the courtyard, and gestured for him to sit as well. "I told my family about your situation."

Su Bai's expression shifted slightly, and he sat down opposite her as instructed, waiting for her to continue.

Ning Yuechan looked at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of scrutiny and admiration. Her gaze lingered on his face for a moment, as if she were getting to know him again: "Guess what your family's reaction was?"

Su Bai pondered for a moment and said, "The Ning family's willingness to let me establish myself in the county town is already a tremendous favor. If I want to advance further, I'm afraid it won't be so easy."

Ning Yuechan smiled, her smile carrying a hint of surprise and approval.

"After I explained your situation in detail, the patriarch personally spoke up and said he was willing to mentor you."

Su Bai was taken aback, and his eyebrows rose slightly.

Ning Yuechan continued, "However, there is one condition."

"Speaking."

"The position of Chief Constable of Qingjiang County has been vacant for a long time." Ning Yuechan looked at him, her gaze becoming serious. "The Ning family helped you get this position. You should know how dangerous it is there. The previous Chief Constable died silently in his own home, and the matter is still unsolved."

Su Bai remained silent for a moment, then solemnly stood up, clasped his hands in a deep bow, and bent his waist very low: "Thank you, Miss Ning, and please convey my thanks to the Ning family patriarch."

Ning Yuechan waved her hand, gesturing for him to get up: "No need to thank me. It's your own merit that made you stand out. If you were a good-for-nothing, I wouldn't have spoken up for you in front of the Ancestor."

She stood up and walked to the courtyard gate. The morning light shone on her, outlining her slender figure.

She turned to look at him, her gaze deep and thoughtful. "Although Qingjiang County is not as prosperous as Fengshan County, it is still a large county with considerable wealth, even better than Fenjiang County. However, it is also a place where various forces are deeply entrenched. Going there might not be as easy as staying here."

Su Bai nodded calmly: "I understand."

"Okay, the second thing is, here are some secrets I gave you, take a look."

As Ning Yuechan spoke, she took out a wooden box from her side and gently placed it on the stone table between the two of them.

The wooden box was about a foot square, entirely black, with an extremely smooth surface that gleamed with a restrained matte sheen in the morning light.

The lid of the box is carved with an old plum tree, its branches gnarled and twisted, with only a few blossoms. The carving technique is simple yet exudes a sense of antiquity.

She placed her palm on the lid of the box, paused for a moment, and then slowly pushed it open.

The moment the lid was lifted, a faint scent of camphor wood wafted out.

Three secret manuals lay quietly inside.

Su Bai's gaze fell upon it, and his breath hitched slightly.

The first book on the left has the words "Burning Wood Knife" written on its cover, the strokes sharp and fierce, as if it were carved with a knife.

The spine of the book shows signs of having been read, and the edges are slightly frayed, clearly indicating that it is not a newly copied copy, but an authentic copy that has been studied by someone.

The book in the middle made his pupils shrink slightly—"Fleeting Shadows and Fleeting Light".

It turned out to be this manual of lightness skill.

Back in the Treasure Pavilion, he had personally seen this manual priced at eight hundred taels of silver, placed in the most conspicuous position on the second floor. The shopkeeper said it contained superior lightness skills, and that when mastered to the extreme, one could walk on water without leaving a trace and chase the wind and lightning.

At that time, he could only look at it from afar through the shop window; he didn't even have the right to ask it out and browse through it.

And now, it lies quietly in front of me.

The last one on the right is the thickest, and it has the most words on the cover—"Dragon's Roar and Tiger's Howl: Iron Shirt".

Su Bai's gaze froze.

The Iron Shirt martial art is widely known in the market. In the martial arts schools of the county town, the escorts of the security escort agencies, and even the street performers, most of them have practiced a few moves of the Iron Shirt technique.

But those are all rudimentary skills, at best considered inferior. Even if you train them to the extreme, you'll only have thick skin and flesh, enough to withstand a few punches and kicks.

The intermediate level of Iron Shirt is extremely rare, and is often kept as a family heirloom by small families, never to be shown to others.

And this book in front of me—

Su Bai reached out and gently turned to the first page. The profound and exquisite incantation of the martial arts technique he saw was completely different from the common Iron Shirt technique he knew.

If you continue flipping through, you'll find a diagram of meridian circulation, with dense red lines marking the path of true qi flow. Next to it are cultivation insights written in tiny characters—the handwriting of predecessors.

This is a superior body-refining technique.

No, it's not just top-notch.

Su Bai raised his head and looked at Ning Yuechan.

Ning Yuechan stood facing the sunlight, half of her face hidden in the light and shadow, her expression indifferent, revealing nothing.

She crossed her arms and tapped her arms unconsciously, seemingly not paying much attention to the few secret manuals.

"These cultivation techniques are sufficient for your True Qi Realm," she said, her tone as calm as if she were commenting on the weather. "The Burning Wood Blade is a superior sword technique, following a powerful and forceful approach, perfectly complementing your Frost Sword Technique with its contrasting strength and gentleness. You've already seen the Fleeting Shadow and Floating Light techniques, so I won't elaborate. As for the Dragon's Roar and Tiger's Howl Iron Shirt technique—"

She paused, her gaze falling on the thick cover: "Most of the Iron Shirt manuals circulating on the market are incomplete. In the end, they either injure the body or get stuck at a bottleneck, unable to make any further progress. This is the complete version, which the Ning family acquired at considerable expense. In terms of defense, it's no worse than the Golden Bell Shield."

Su Bai remained silent for a moment, then closed the manuals and gently placed them back into the wooden box.

He stood up, took a step back, straightened his robes, and solemnly clasped his hands in a deep bow, his back almost parallel to the ground.

Thank you.

Two words, spoken very softly, yet with immense weight.

Ning Yuechan looked at him, her lips twitching slightly as if she wanted to say something, but in the end she just waved her hand: "Alright, stop bowing all the time. Just practice your skills properly and don't waste these manuals."

"Okay." Su Bai nodded.

Some things really don't need to be said.

He always remembered Ning Yuechan's kindness to him.

Li Sanshan stood for a moment under the corridor of the prefectural government's garrison office.

The autumn sunlight slanted down from the eaves and fell on his gray-blue official robe, like a thin layer of dust, making even the cloud patterns embroidered on the robe look dull and gray.

The shadow of the pillars stretched across his feet, dividing him in two—one half bathed in sunlight, the other hidden in shadow. He stood there, motionless, like the ancient wooden pillars under the eaves, waiting for someone to come and greet him.

He had been standing here for a while.

There were many figures in the office not far away. Through the window covered with Korean paper, he could see people moving around inside, and occasionally laughter could be heard, but no one came out to greet him.

It's been two days.

He personally handed in the investigation report about the Fenjiang County prison, but it remained unanswered for two whole days.

He remembered that the weather was similar on the day he submitted the document; the autumn sun was thin. When he handed the document to the clerk, he specifically added, "Urgent."

The clerk took it, casually tossed it onto the table, nodded, and didn't even look up.

According to regulations, documents at this level should receive a reply within one day at most.

Even if it's necessary to investigate or verify, there should be an explanation.

But he asked three times in the past two days, and all three times the answer was "wait a little longer".

The first time was yesterday afternoon, when the clerk said Lord Zhou was busy; the second time was early this morning, when he said the documents hadn't been turned yet; and the third time was just now, when he said, "Wait a little longer."

Li Sanshan lifted his foot and walked towards the office.

His boots made a soft sound as they stepped on the blue bricks. A few sparrows were pecking at grass seeds in the cracks between the bricks under the eaves. Startled by him, they fluttered up to the eaves, shaking off a few withered leaves.

"Master Li."

Someone came out from inside the door to greet them. It was a clerk under Lord Zhou's command. He had a smile on his face, but he only bent his waist halfway—that was the courtesy given to officials of the same rank, not to superiors.

He stood inside the threshold, blocking half of the doorway. "Why did you come in person?"

Is Lord Zhou here?

"Yes, yes." The clerk stepped aside, his gaze quickly sweeping across the man's face as if assessing something. "But I'm busy right now—"

Li Sanshan ignored him and walked straight inside.

The clerk stepped aside, his smile freezing for a moment before returning to its usual flamboyant manner. He followed beside Li Sanshan, muttering things like, "Please wait a moment, sir, while I go and inform him." Li Sanshan paid no heed, continuing on his way.

There were seven or eight desks in the office, and several clerks were organizing documents.

The autumn sunlight slanted in through the south window, illuminating the dust particles that filled the room, causing them to slowly tumble and roll within the beam of light.

Upon seeing him enter, the clerks slowed their movements. One of them glanced at him quickly before looking down again.

Li Sanshan's gaze passed over them and landed on the half-open door in the innermost room—that was the office of Lord Zhou's clerk, with a dim light shining through the crack in the door.

He knocked on the door.

"Come in."

The voice came through the crack in the door, neither loud nor soft, and it was impossible to discern any emotion.

Li Sanshan pushed open the door and entered.

Lord Zhou, the constable, was sitting behind his desk, holding a document in his hand, his brows slightly furrowed, reading it very intently.

The autumn sunlight streamed in through the back window, casting half of his face in shadow, while the expression on the other half remained unreadable.

He seemed unaware that someone had entered, his gaze still fixed on the documents. After a few moments, he slowly raised his eyes.

He twitched his brow slightly, then put down the document and gestured for him to sit.

"Lord Li, please sit down."

The gesture was insinuated; the fingertip pointed towards the chair, then the gesture was withdrawn.

Li Sanshan did not sit down.

He stood before the desk, backlit, his expression hidden in the shadows. A breeze blew in from outside the window, causing the bamboo blinds of the back window to sway gently, casting flickering light and shadow on him.

"Lord Zhou," he stood before the desk, his voice low but clear, "I submitted that investigation report two days ago. Have you received a response?"

Lord Zhou stroked his beard, his gaze falling on the stack of documents on the corner of the desk. The stack of documents was neatly arranged, about half a foot high, with labels on each cover indicating the date and subject.

His gaze slowly swept over the stack of documents, as if trying to identify which one was his. After a moment, he looked up, a hint of embarrassment on his face.

His expression was just right, not too much and not too little, enough to let the other person know he was in trouble, but not so deliberate as to seem overly obvious.

"Lord Li," he paused, "are you referring to the portion from Fenjiang County?"

"Exactly."

"Fenjiang County—the portion belonging to jailer Su Bai?"

Li Sanshan's heart skipped a beat.

Lord Zhou sighed and moved the stack of documents to the side very slowly, as if afraid of damaging something.

He pulled out a portion from the bottom, the very one that Li Sanshan had personally handed in.

He didn't open it, but gently tapped the cover with his knuckles, as if afraid of disturbing something.

"Lord Li," he looked up at him, something flickering in his eyes, "this report doesn't need to be investigated."

Li Sanshan remained silent.

The clerk, Lord Zhou, pushed the document towards him very slowly, his fingertips lingering on the cover for a moment before withdrawing. His voice was extremely low, as if afraid of being overheard: "That jailer in Fenjiang County, Su Bai, his personnel connections—have already been touched."

"What?"

"He's been transferred." Chief Constable Zhou looked at him with a complex expression in his eyes—an expression Li Sanshan understood: "I knew this would happen," along with a hint of sympathy. "Chief Constable of Qingjiang County, take office immediately."

Li Sanshan was stunned.

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. The teacup on the table had gone cold, with a thin layer of foam floating on top, just like everything in the room, exuding a stale and chilly feeling.

"As for the rest," Lord Zhou withdrew his hand, stroking his beard again. His knuckles were slightly white as he touched his beard. "The higher-ups said it's over."

"It's stopped?"

"Stop." Lord Zhou nodded, no longer looking at him, and lowered his head to flip through other documents. He flipped through them very carefully, page by page, as if the document in front of him was more important than anything else. "Lord Li, let's leave this matter here."

Li Sanshan stood there, as if someone had poured a bucket of cold water over his head.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but something seemed stuck in his throat, hard and astringent.

He recalled the clues he had found in the prison those few days, the yellowed files, the prisoners who seemed hesitant to speak, and the ambiguous confessions.

He recalled the young jailer's unyielding gaze, his steady demeanor when he stood before him, and how every word of the doubts he had meticulously noted down was written by the jailer himself. After the ink dried, he would flip through the pages one by one to make sure nothing was missing.

"Lord Zhou," his voice was hoarse, like rusted iron, "may I ask, whose intention is this? Don't you know this is the Li family—"

Lord Zhou raised his head and glanced at him.

There's so much in that one glance.

There's a warning—meaning don't ask any more questions; there's helplessness—meaning I can't make the decision; and there's a hint of pity—meaning you've been sold out without even realizing it.

He didn't answer, he just shook his head.

The shaking was very slow, as if afraid he wouldn't understand.

After shaking it, he lowered his head to look at his documents, turning one page after another, and then never looking at them again.